


Seven Wandering Children

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Fluff, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Kindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: During a trip to Boston, Connor stumbles upon a group of orphaned children living in an alleyway and decides to take them to a much better home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to write more of this story, but then I figured the fic was at a good enough length. I'll definitely be writing a part 2 tho~

Connor had mixed feelings concerning Boston. On one hand, it was convenient. It usually took him little time traveling from the Homestead into the city for some errands. Boston also served as a decent meeting spot for him and any other assassins in the area.

Yet as the years passed, Connor grew increasingly frustrated – not to mention wary – of the city and its inhabitants. When most of the people weren’t ignoring him as they went about their daily lives, they eyed him with suspicion and sometimes hostility. This never surprised him. Connor knew people’s view of him during the war wouldn’t change once the fighting ceased. It never mattered how many good deeds he achieved. Nor did it matter many wanted posters he swiftly tore down off the stone and brick walls.

Then there was the sheer size of Boston. During his first visit with Achilles, the city was small, barely the size of New York. Not too long after the British left, the amount of streets and buildings nearly doubled, taking up more and more land. The Boston Connor used to be familiar with once again turned foreign along with chaotic and overcrowded. With its growth came a multitude of problems that went ignored or were brushed aside by politicians and even by the people themselves.

Still, he doubted that New York, Philadelphia, or any other out of state city had changed for the better. So Connor made a compromise and settled on Boston. Readying his horse, he rode out of the Homestead, thinking he wouldn’t be gone for long.

Upon his arrival, Connor found a spot to tie up his mount and headed straight towards the harbour. Otherwise known as the busiest area of Boston. Barely an hour until noon and nearly half of the population crowded the large marketplace. Patrons included farmers with vegetables and fruits from their own fields, fishermen shouting about their fresh catches of the day, hunters showing off their soft pelts, meats, and bones, alongside so many more. Every sound and smell merged together, creating an assault on the senses. Luckily, Connor was able to navigate through the chaos. All he needed was some food and other miscellanea; then he would be on his way.

As he traveled from vendor to vendor, making his various purchases, Connor almost began to mourn what Boston used to be. Or more accurately, he mourned the sense of excitement and wonder he felt when he first stepped foot into the city. Connor quickly let that thought go. Over the years, he developed a very complicated relationship with nostalgia. Sometimes it gave him comfort – something he was always in need of – other times it left him feeling bittersweet, irritated, even angry.

Nostalgia, just like memory itself, was a fickle thing. And Connor was used to fickle things.

Pushing through the crowds into a more open area didn’t take much effort. A few bumps and gentle shoves and Connor was finally able to breathe easy. That’s when he felt his stomach rumble. The first one was easy to ignore. Connor simply continued walking down the wide cobblestone road with a basket of food in one hand and a bag of tools slung over his shoulder, eager to return home. Then came the second rumble.

Connor looked into the basket. Despite his growing hunger, he didn’t want to eat much since he was saving most of its contents for friends and neighbours. Though there didn’t seem to be any harm in taking one little thing. Coming across a small bench on a quiet street, Connor sat down and settled on a red apple. One bite into the juicy fruit and he was already feeling much better.

But he wasn’t alone. Before he could take any more bites, Connor noticed something peculiar out of the corner of his eye. He lowered the apple and turned his head to the side. Peeking ever so slightly around the corner was a little girl with long tangled hair wearing a brown dress and a large tattered shawl, covering the entire upper half of her tiny body including her arms, neck, chin, and mouth.

Every time Connor tried to get a better look at her, she quickly ducked into the alley, keeping out of sight. She only revealed herself when he turned away for only a brief second. The moment he tried again, back she went into the alleyway, scurrying like a mouse until he averted his eyes.

At first Connor found this little game of theirs amusing. Then he started thinking about why her clothes were so ratty, why she was by herself at such a young age, and why she was acting so aloof around him. Glancing at his apple, Connor quickly figured it out.

“I know you are hiding over there. Come out.” The girl was about to do as he said but once again became overwhelmed with shyness. “It is alright. I will not harm you. Come on.”

It took some more coaxing, but the girl was finally able to muster up enough courage and shuffle out of the alleyway in plain sight. She looked up at Connor, her gaze shifting back and forth between him and the apple in his hand.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. She responded with a nod of her head. “Here…” Connor held up the piece of fruit before withdrawing his retractable hidden blade. The girl let out a fearful gasp as she quickly retreated to her familiar hiding place.

“Do not be afraid. I promise you are safe. Please trust me.” Connor spoke with the utmost gentleness, but the girl wouldn’t listen. “Look.” With the blade in one hand, he cut the apple right down its middle and held out the half that hadn’t already been bitten into. “This is for you.”

No sign of her. Just as Connor was about to give up and move on, he caught a glimpse of the girl inching around the corner towards him. She took a few more steps before reaching up and taking the fruit out of his hand. After mumbling something that sounded like a “thank you”, she disappeared into the alley.

Connor sighed as he took another juice filled bite out of the other half. He thought about staying around, despite his previous plan of leaving Boston as quickly as possible. Maybe there was something else he could do to help the little stray girl. He couldn’t leave her with nothing but one half of an apple. Connor’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as his mind lingered on all the upsetting yet more than likely outcomes of her dire situation.

Before Connor could take action, he heard something. It sounded like voices, whispering, muttering, and speaking all at once, coming from the same alleyway. Checking his peripheral vision, he saw the apple girl, along with what looked to be five other children, poking their heads out. Just like before, as soon as Connor turned his head, they all ran away.

Now was the time to follow. His sense of curiosity (and concern) urged him to. It wouldn’t be difficult; he was rather good at tracking down people far more elusive than a group of timid strays. All Connor needed to do was listen to the sound of children running on dirt pathways while splashing in muddy puddles. Their voices echoing off the brick and stonewalls also helped.

Eventually the running stopped and Connor was led to something he didn’t expect to see. The same group of children, plus two more, hiding underneath a tattered piece of cloth held up by nothing but a few boxes and abandoned carts. Huddling close together in their makeshift home, they all stared up at Connor with wide, terrified eyes.

"There is no need to be afraid." But with a single step forward, the children flinched, backing away as much as they could. 

"P-p-please don't t-t-take us away." One of the younger strays stuttered. Soon the rest of the group began sounding off in a series of quiet yet desperate pleads, all while keeping their distance from Connor.

"Please, sir. Don't sell us."

"We can't go to a workhouse."

"We're not bothering anybody! Please leave us be."

"We're sorry!"

For the youngest ones, it didn't take much for them to start crying until their little faces turned red and their breathing shortened into hiccups. Connor's heart began to ache far more than it did before. Despite what the eldest of the bunch kept telling him, he wasn’t about to leave them alone. He wanted to comfort the group but knew that if he got any closer, they would either shrink further into their shells or run away.

Still, he wanted to try. "Why would I sell you? Or put you in a workhouse?"

The children went silent, confused by his question, until a familiar girl holding onto half of an apple spoke up. "That's where they took our friends."

"Your friends?" Connor repeated. "Were there more of you?"

Everyone nodded. "We a-a-always esc-c-c-ran away and hid w-whenever they t-t-tried to t-t-t-take us."

"Where are your families?"

The group looked at each other, unsure of what to say. It wasn't until another girl replied in a meek tone. "Our families are gone, sir. We came from an orphanage."

"Some of us arrived there when we were just babies."

"What happened?"

"The Mister and his Mrs. couldn't afford to keep the place open during the war." The eldest orphan answered. "Couldn't feed us, clothe us, or care for us."

"So it was the workhouses or the streets for us."

"Or w-w-w-worse."

As each child spoke, Connor listened very carefully. Glancing down at the girl’s half apple, he knew that in their situation, she would most likely have to share some of it with the others. “I promise I will not sell any of you to a workhouse.” He announced in a confident yet soft tone. The first step in gaining their trust. Yet Connor wasn’t sure if that would still be the case after they heard his next proposition.

“But I will have to take you away from this place.”

Every child in the group stared at him with a mix of shocked, confused, and suspicious expressions. “Take us away? Where?”

“Some place better.”

“What’s better than the streets?”

Connor almost chuckled. “A lot of places, actually. I live in a small Homestead that is welcoming and open to all new occupants. There we have a church with a generous pastor and an inn run by two very kind people. Some of you will stay in the church while the others will go to the inn until I find permanent residences for each one of you.”

“W-we’d live in a ch-ch-church?”

“I remember the orphanage having a chapel. Never slept there, though.”

“You’d leave us at an inn?”

Connor sighed, though not out of defeat or irritation. “I understand if some of you still do not trust me. And if any of you wish to stay, then I will not force you. But believe me when I say that the place I am speaking of is far safer than the streets of Boston. I know how scary and uncertain moving from one home to another can be, but you will be surrounded by people who will support, comfort, and care for you.”

“Will… will they want to adopt us?” The girl with the apple asked quietly.

“I hope so.”

Urgent yet gentle, convincing yet not too demanding. Those were two things Connor tried to keep in mind as he spoke to the children. He needed to stress the importance of fleeing their current home for a much better one while also offering them a choice whether they really wanted to leave or stay. Though at the moment, Connor didn’t know how successful he was in his message. The children seemed considerably less suspicious of him, yet none of them gave him any sort of reply. He knew they were thinking about his proposal but having to wait made Connor even more anxious.

Finally, the apple girl stepped forward. “What’s your name?”

Connor paused, admittedly thrown off by the seemingly straightforward question. Then he smiled and answered. “Connor. You may call me Connor.”

She stood immobile for a little while longer before joining his side, leaving the group entirely – a good enough answer for Connor. Much to his relief, the rest of the strays gradually followed her. One by one until they surrounded him, even the most vocal skeptics. Connor could feel his heart growing lighter.

“Will we have to walk?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But I have a horse. You can all take turns riding on it until we arrive.” Despite a few grumbles, the children seemed ready to get going. However, before he left along with the others, he felt someone tugging on his sleeve. Connor looked down to see the apple girl raising her short arms above her head, the piece of fruit still in one hand.

Out of everything that just happened, this particular action surprised him the most. But in the end, it made him all the more glad. After picking her up, Connor let the girl wrap her arms around his neck for stability as he carried her away from what used to be her home.

She felt so light in his arms.


End file.
